


A Smoother Landing

by qb_cereal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bus Sex, F/F, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s03e06 Motel California
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qb_cereal/pseuds/qb_cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, on a bus, Stiles' life remains almost exactly the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Smoother Landing

**Author's Note:**

> _Will you make a smoother landing / when you break your fall from grace / into the arms of understanding / looking for one safe place?_

Scott collapses into a seat halfway down the bus and Stiles slides in beside him, pushing him against the wall.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ he demands, turning around and grabbing two handfuls of Scott’s soaked shirt. Once he says it, he can’t stop.

‘Don’t you ever do that again, oh god Scott, don’t ever do that again, please…’

‘I won’t, I swear, Stiles. It’s okay, I won’t. I won’t.’

Their words run together, echoing off the walls of the bus with Allison’s muffled sobs and Lydia’s warm whispers. Stiles’ voice starts to break and he knows he’s pleading, not insisting, but he has to be sure, he needs to be _sure_. Scott’s hands slide up his back and into his hair, steady and gentle. He pulls Stiles’ face close, still whispering assurances, and presses their foreheads together until their lips meet. Scott doesn’t kiss him, not exactly, just breathes Stiles’ name against his mouth like one of them is drowning. It’s enough.

Stiles’ mouth twists as he starts to cry at last, and that’s when Scott kisses him. He tilts his head a little and covers Stiles’ lips with his own, infinitely soft and warm, as though he can coax the ugly, unhappy shape into something better. Stiles kisses him back as hard as he can, his eyes shut tight and his tears on Scott’s cheeks. Scott holds on to him like he’s precious and that’s wrong, it’s all wrong because _Scott_ is precious and Stiles was very nearly all alone and Stiles is useless when he’s alone.

‘I’m here,’ Scott murmurs. Then, ‘I’m here _with you,_ ’ which is infinitely more important.

Stiles kisses him again and shoves Scott’s shirt up to run both hands over his stomach, his side, the healed places Allison had to stitch up in a public toilet at a rest stop because Scott McCall still doesn’t know how to believe in himself and whose fault is that? Stiles presses his mouth to Scott’s jaw and whispers ‘don’t ever do that again’ one more time. Scott swears that he won’t and his heartbeat is fast but even under Stiles’ fingers, under his smooth skin and unbroken ribs.

Scott slides his hands under Stiles’ shirt, smiling and pulling him close. The sound of ripping fabric cuts through the silence and Allison says ‘Lydia!’ in an affronted tone, followed by a truncated whimper. Scott smiles against Stiles’ ear and squeezes his shoulder. He tucks one finger into the waistband of Stiles’ jeans and says ‘Stiles’.

Stiles lets go of Scott’s shirt to wrap one hand around the back of his neck and fumble with his fly with the other. By either a miracle or Scott’s sheer exhaustion, Stiles manages Scott’s pants nearly as quickly as Scott manages his. He doesn’t hesitate, not with _Scott_ , just tugs his briefs down and wraps a hand around him as naturally as he’d touch himself. Scott makes an absolutely delighted noise and his head falls back against the seat. Stiles decides this is exactly what he wants to be doing, more than anything. He strokes Scott experimentally and Scott’s face lights up with desire and affection and he reaches for Stiles again.

Stiles bats his hand away and keeps stroking Scott’s dick, eyes fixed on his face, because Scott had looked like he was in pain out there. He’d looked like he was being torn apart from the inside or watching his mother die or both, and Scott should never, ever feel that kind of pain. Stiles wants nothing more than to replace all the pain Scott will ever feel with pleasure and right now they’re on a bus in the middle of the night and Lydia is growling ‘Allison, you _angel_ ’ in a tone Stiles has never heard her use before and he doesn’t even look up. He just looks at Scott and, when Scott pulls his face close and kisses him, he doesn’t close his eyes.

Scott tightens his hands in Stiles’ hair and kisses down to his throat, his mouth hot and possessive. Stiles moans out loud at the feel of him and increases the pace of his hand over Scott’s cock. He wishes for lube and promises himself he’ll make sure they have it next time. Scott closes his teeth around Stiles’ collarbone and Stiles shudders against him involuntarily, electrified by the sensation even as Scott soothes the spot with his tongue.

‘You saved me,’ he murmurs, his voice catching as Stiles’ hand tightens briefly around him. ‘God, Stiles, you _saved_ me tonight.’

Scott tugs Stiles’ head down to claim his lips again, a little rougher than before and a little more desperate. Stiles kisses back hard and feels Scott’s cock throb in his hand and squeezes his knees around Scott’s hips. Scott’s eyes are shut tight and his jaw is slack, his fingers curling tightly into Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles is doing his level best not to even blink. Scott has never looked safer, or happier, or more content with his skinny human best friend and Stiles could spend the rest of his life looking at Scott looking like this.

Scott gasps Stiles name and comes through his fingers and Stiles still doesn’t take his eyes from Scott’s face, ignoring the pang of disappointment that threatens in his chest until Scott cups his face and kisses him all over again. It feels like coming home, like everything being okay, like Scott being alive and hanging onto Stiles in a school bus in the middle of the night.

Scott traces his hand down Stiles’ side, still smiling as his breathing returns to normal and still looking impossibly, angelically gorgeous. He traces Stiles’ hipbone with the pad of his thumb as though memorising it. Stiles shifts toward him and abruptly realises how uncomfortably hard he is. It doesn’t help that Scott looks up at him though his lashes and says ‘let me, Stiles, please.’

Stiles stumbles over the words, trying to say ‘yes, fuck yes, Scott, please,’ and Scott gives him his familiar understanding smile. He’s more graceful than Stiles, always has been, and he even manages to make tugging Stiles’ boxers down and stroking him gently look beautiful. Stiles is vaguely aware of his mouth falling open and Scott just beams at him, his smile lighting up his whole face and Stiles’ heart aches. He wraps his arms around Scott’s neck and kisses him and this time it feels like a first kiss, messy and warm and slightly off-balance.

Scott’s touch is gentle and smooth enough to make Stiles wonder how the werewolf-healing ability works on calluses, until Allison cries out in the quiet. Stiles’ head jerks up, startled, but all he can see is one bare leg, outflung from the seat, and a smear of bright pink, sparkly lip gloss on her thigh. He looks away again in a hurry, turning his gaze to Scott’s face, and realises that Scott hasn’t even glanced away from him. Stiles can feel his cheeks heat up at the sweet, almost awed look on Scott’s face and he’s not jealous of Allison. Not even a little bit. Scott grins even wider and wraps his arm around the small of Stiles’ back, holding him up and keeping him close, and rubs his thumb in little circles. Stiles makes a high-pitched, undignified noise and bucks toward him, swearing under his breath.

‘Fuck, Scott, please, _fuck_ …’

‘Oh god, Stiles…’

Scott leans in and presses his mouth against the side of Stiles’ throat hungrily. Stiles could swear he feels sharp fangs against his neck as he shudders and comes into Scott’s hand.

Stiles opens his eyes, panting. Scott is smiling at him and surreptitiously wiping his hand under the bus seat. Stiles can’t help but grin back.

‘You okay?’ he asks gently. Scott nods.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. You?’

‘Yeah,’ Stiles says, shifting off of Scott to settle beside him and slinging one arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m fine.’

Scott leans against the window, tugs Stiles’ head down onto his chest, and cards his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles leans against him and tucks his arm around Scott’s waist instead.

‘Comfortable?’

‘Nnnn,’ Scott replies contentedly. ‘Thank you, Stiles.’

Stiles knows exactly what he means, and even the lingering smell of gas doesn’t stop him from burying his face in Scott’s shirt for a moment. The night is cold, but Scott is warm and safe and _alive_ , and Stiles is snuggled up against him.

It’s new, in a way. But only one way. Scott has always understood Stiles and protected him and supported him and loved him, and letting Stiles fall asleep tangled in his arms is like one tiny, perfect star in the entire night sky that is his life with Scott. Stiles will move to another seat before the sun rises, before anyone can see them, because he does his best to protect Scott when he can. But right now they’re on a bus, in the middle of nowhere, and he can feel Scott’s ribs move against his own with slow, even breaths.


End file.
